


Please Forgive Me

by Kelvindalegirl



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Angst, Becomes explicit, F/M, Longing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-05-24 23:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14964227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelvindalegirl/pseuds/Kelvindalegirl
Summary: The time after the night before......





	1. Please Forgive Me

Chapter One

Strike stirred and turned over in bed. He was alone, which was usual and he stretched himself out to have another few minutes, maybe a few hours hopefully. Daylight was streaming in the window. What time was it? What day was it?

His mind was foggy and his head vaguely aching. Too much booze last night. As his memory gradually returned, he automatically stretched out an arm to touch the person who should have been there beside him. Robin. Robin should have been there. Strike could still smell her on his pillow.

Where was she? In the bathroom? Kitchen maybe? It was deathly quiet in the flat. Strike then realised it was Saturday morning and looking at his watch, it was 9.45.

Did I dream that Robin was here, he asked himself? But I can smell her. And I’m naked. And I’m sure that……..

His phone beeped and not for the first time. It had probably been beeping for hours and the noise had seeped into his slumber. He reached over to his bedside table to see who wanted him. Three new messages. Strike rubbed his eyes to clear his vision.

_Dear Cormoran,_

_Please forgive me for not being there this morning. I left early and came home. I know I’ve done a runner and I’m ashamed of myself. I panicked. You’re probably asking, why? And I don’t know if I can give you a good answer. All I know is that I’m petrified at the thought of losing what we’ve got, the business and our working relationship and, well, our friendship I guess, that’s the most important bit. I just can’t imagine not working with you anymore and I’m so scared that last night is going to threaten everything we have. I just can’t bear for that to happen. I can’t even bear to think about that happening._

_God, I hate these feelings and I hate being such a coward and running off. I’m so sorry. Is there any way we can forget what happened and be as we were? Is that possible? Please say it is._

_Robin x_

_Cormoran,_

_Sorry, I’m not saying last night wasn’t great (it was more than great, fantastic), that’s really not what I’m saying at all. I don’t know what I’m saying, but that’s not it._

_Robin x_

_Cormoran,_

_Something else, last night was all my fault. It was, so don’t try to take the blame yourself. I’m not saying there is any blame, that’s not the right word. I can’t find the right word just now. But anyway, it’s all on me, what happened. I’m responsible._

_Please say you understand. I just need to think and my head isn’t co-operating one bit. I’m crapping myself. And my head’s thumping too._

_Robin x_

 

Strike fell back against his pillow. Fuck.

 


	2. Stop Panicking

Chapter Two

Strike tried to think. The only thought he could come up with was “fuck”.

Great. Robin was having a nervous breakdown somewhere and all he could think of was an expletive.

I must see her, thought Strike. So he rose from bed and attached his leg before stomping to the bathroom. After relieving himself and giving his face and head a thorough dowsing in the sink, Strike headed to the kitchen to consume a very large glass of water. He then returned to sit on the edge of his bed.

Strike read Robin’s three messages again and they somehow seemed more desperate than on his first reading. I can’t wait until I see her. I must do something now.

 

_Robin,_

_Stop panicking. I don’t see anything to worry about, honestly. Please, just relax._

_Give me a call if you want to talk. Or do you want to meet up later? Let me know._

_I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I will._

_Corm x_

After a few minutes:

 

_Robin,_

_Please reply to let me know you’re ok at least._

_Personally, I thought last night was pretty awesome._

_Corm x_

Strike went back to the kitchen to find something to eat. He could really do with a full fry-up, but knew there would be no chance of having the ingredients in his fridge. A visit to the local café was on the cards. Whilst he filled the kettle, his phone buzzed. Great, Robin has replied.

 

_Hi Cormoran,_

_Are we still on for tonight? I’ve got tickets for a band playing in Soho. VIP ones! Let me know what time suits to meet up._

_Kimberley xx_

Fuck.


	3. I Wish I Was There To Give You A Hug

Chapter Three

Robin was lying on her bed checking her phone every minute. Why doesn’t he reply? Why can’t he be awake? Maybe he is awake and feeling pissed off with me. Of course, Robin knew that the odds of Strike being awake at 9am on a Saturday morning were very slim and therefore he wouldn’t even have seen her messages yet. But still, she had to keep checking her phone. Has my reception gone? Is this stupid thing really working?

Robin knew she couldn’t just lie there waiting as each millisecond passed by. She got up and made her way to the kitchen, immediately holding her head as it spun with the effects of her hangover. The house was thankfully quiet and Robin had no idea if any of her housemates were even there, never mind sleeping. The kettle was switched on while Robin searched for an alkaseltzer in the cupboard. She was sure she couldn’t stomach eating anything yet and wasn’t sure if this was because of her hangover or her nerves. The alkaseltzer tablets fizzed up instantly on contact with the large measure of water poured over them and Robin winced again at the noise. She poured in some diluting juice to make the taste more palatable. Final stage was a sweet cup of tea and Robin then returned to her room with the drinks in both hands.

A morning after the night before scenario was not something which Robin had any experience of, but she knew that she had definitely screwed up this one, big time. What must Strike be thinking, waking up to an empty space and a couple of crazy text messages? I’m a lunatic, a certifiable madwoman. Hopefully he isn’t awake yet, but please let it be soon.

Robin drank down the alkaseltzer, licking all the salty remnants from the rim of the glass. This will sort me out. I bloody need this so much. Next came the tea, which Robin sipped slowly as she settled herself against her pillows, propped up against the headboard. She was so tired, now craving sleep and her mind started to replay the events of the previous evening…..

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was 5.30pm in the office and Robin was finishing up her tasks for the day. Another two reports finished, photos examined and printed off, the wages and VAT returns all done and ready to go, a couple more invoices sent out. All good and a great start for a weekend free from work. She was due to meet Strike in the Tottenham at 6pm, as usual.

Robin’s phone rang and peering at the screen, it was her mum Linda.

“Hi Mum, how’s it going?”

Robin listened to her mum at the other end of the line for a minute or so.

“Oh no. No! Oh God Mum, I’m so sorry. When did it happen?”

Pause

“Right, I see. Well, at least you were there with her. Oh Mum! That’s just awful. I’m sorry, I wish I was there to give you a hug.”

Pause.

“Yeah, I know she hadn’t been well and all that, but still. Listen, I’ll get time off Mum and I’ll come up as soon as I can.”

Pause.

“Don’t be silly. It’ll be fine. Cormoran will let me away, that’s no problem, really. I’ll just need to get on to checking the trains, so I’ll let you know when I’ll be coming. Or maybe I’ll drive.”

Pause.

“Me? Don’t worry about me, I’ll be ok. Dad’s there isn’t he? And what about the boys, are any of them around just now?

Pause.

“Oh that’s good, yeah. Erm, right, I’ll phone you tomorrow when I know more ok?”

Pause.

“Yes, I’m always careful when I drive Mum, just you concentrate on things up there, ok? Big hug from me. Love you. Speak soon. Bye.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin had just nodded off to sleep when her phone beeped and she jerked around in fright.

Fuck.


	4. Are You Free This Afternoon?

Chapter Four

Robin read Strike’s text messages several times over, searching for all the possible meanings. But then she had to remind herself that this was Cormoran, there WAS only one meaning – just what the words said. It pretty much does what it says on the tin.

 _Stop panicking._ Yeah, that’s an excellent idea. Do your breathing. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

 _I don’t see anything to worry about, honestly._ Well, let’s see.

 _Give me a call if you want to talk. Or do you want to meet up later?_ Should I call rather than meet? But that’s the coward’s way out. And I’ve done enough of that already.

_Personally, I thought last night was pretty awesome._

Robin immediately blushed at the images now in her head. Hands and lips and skin and urgency and……. Oh, Jesus. It seemed like Strike’s hands had been all over her, every single part. Robin could still feel those fingers caressing her face and neck and….. Christ. Robin could feel her body reacting and producing moisture when it really shouldn’t. But last night,…… she had never felt so turned on, so desired, so loved!

“Just stop it!” Robin said aloud before standing up and giving her body a couple of shakes. How on earth am I going to forget these images? The word impossible didn’t even come close.

She breathed deeply again, picked up her phone and pressed the number.

“Hey Cormoran.”

“Robin. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am. I am. Listen, I’m a total idiot. I’m sorry for this morning, that was crap. I just panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Right, first up, stop apologising, ok? Next, are you free this afternoon? Why don’t we meet up? Y’know, to talk about this?”

“Yeah, that would be good. I’m coming in to do some shopping anyway. The usual place? Say about 3-ish? Does that suit?

“Yeah, great, see you then.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Robin fell back onto her bed, shaking. Well, at least that bit was done. But now for the face to face….

Fuck.


	5. It Shouldn’t Have Happened

Chapter Five

Robin arrived outside the Tottenham around 3pm, but couldn’t face going in. She felt unbelievably nervous and paced up and down a bit for 10 minutes. This is so ridiculous, she told herself. This time yesterday, I could see and speak to this person without being a gibbering wreck. One night, one event has changed my life forever and I think I’m going to die of embarrassment!

After another while, Robin just had to tell herself to “get in there, now!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“I got you a small white wine. I hope you don’t mind.”

Robin slid her way into the seat beside Strike. She didn’t immediately glance at him, but when she raised her eyes, he was looking at her with some concern. She blushed pink and took a deep breath.

“Thanks. Yeah, I could do with one. Even after this morning’s hangover.”

Robin rolled her eyes and placed her hand against her face to try to calm her rising colour. She took too large a gulp of her wine and tried to concentrate on her breathing. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

Strike observed her discomfort and felt a sharp jab of guilt. “Look, Robin…….,” he started.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” interrupted Robin, “It shouldn’t.” She sighed. “I’ve been trying so hard to not….to not let this happen.…. with you….. to not have these feelings…. and now look. I’ve messed it all up. Now, everything will be different and there’ll be an atmosphere and tension and you won’t see me the same way and it’s going to be impossible to work together and I’ll need to go and find another job…”

“Whoa, Robin, stop! Just stop,” said Strike, panic rising within him. He reached out to take Robin’s hand, just as her face crumpled up in distress, tears trickling down her face. Strike extended his arm around Robin’s shoulders and pulled her close to his side.

“None of that is going to happen, ok? None of it. It won’t.” He paused, trying to peer down at Robin now sobbing into his coat. “Listen to me. I don’t regret what happened last night. Not one bit. But…” Strike paused again and sighed heavily, trying to utter words he really didn’t want to say, “… if you’d prefer it was forgotten and we continued working and being friends just as we were, then that is exactly what we’ll do. Ok?”

Robin continued sniffling for some minutes and then leaned back, wiping her hands across her face. “Are you sure?” she asked, as she glanced up at Strike. “Because….”

“Totally sure. 100%. I am not losing you or the business. Not for anything.”

Robin sniffed and sighed heavily and pondered for a few moments. “Alright. Ok. It’s a deal. And I’m sorry for being such a mess.”

“Stop saying sorry! Now shut the fuck up and drink your wine,” said Strike giving Robin a smile. She let out a giggle through her tears as she searched in her bag for a tissue. Strike took a large swallow of his pint and glanced up at the football screens, pretending to check the scores.

“So, when are you heading up to Yorkshire?” he enquired in his best, light-hearted tone.

“I’ve decided I’ll drive up tomorrow. I might be away for the whole week. Will that be ok?”

“Of course. Take whatever time you need. When is the funeral, do you know?”

“Not yet, it’s too soon. But probably later in the week. I don’t imagine there will be any delays because Nana was quite ill and had been going downhill for a while.”

They both peered up at the football screens, but neither was really watching them, too consumed with their own thoughts.

“What are you doing tonight? Got any plans?” asked Robin, playing with the tissue in her hands.

“Yeah, I’m seeing Kimberley.”

“Oh, of course,” said Robin, trying to hide her surprise and sudden stab of jealousy. “Going anywhere nice?”

“A club in Soho. There’s some band playing.”

“Great,” said Robin, as she finished her wine.

Strike could sense the unasked questions about his girlfriend, questions he had already been grappling with.

“Look Robin, I don’t normally cross over in relationships. I’m not saying I’m a saint, but I’ve always avoided it. So, with Kimberley, I think….” Strike had to stop to think how to phrase the next bit.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” said Robin quickly, shaking her head. She couldn’t help recalling their previous evening together once again. Her blush was returning and she looked away, breathing through it.

Strike looked at Robin and sensed that their thoughts were in sync. He too felt his face reddening and quickly took another swig of his pint.

“You seeing Adam tonight?”

“No, I wasn’t due to see him until midweek because of his shifts. Now, I won’t see him until after I get back. Probably just as well….,” she tailed off.

“Maybe.” Strike gave a small smile of understanding.

“Listen, I’ve still got some shopping I want to do and then get ready for tomorrow, so I’ll head off and leave you to the football,” said Robin.

What Strike really wanted to say was, “Don’t go yet. Stay. Stay with me again tonight.” However, the words that automatically came out were, “No problem. Pass on my condolences to your family.”

“Yeah, will do,” replied Robin.

“And be careful driving.”

“You sound like my Mum.”

“And keep me updated with your plans.”

Robin rose to leave. She smiled, which Strike was very relieved to see.

“Thanks Cormoran, for….. y’know….”

Strike grasped Robin’s free hand and squeezed it. “No worries.”

Robin made her way out of the bar, Strike watching the best thing in his life walking out of the door. And coming after, quite possibly, one of the best nights of his life. He felt a wave of sadness wash over him, as though his world had been plunged into misery and confusion once again.

Fuck. Double fuck.


	6. You Alright?

Chapter Six

For the next week, Strike reverted to type. When life was overwhelming, seek refuge in work. He had always done that in his adult life and why should anything change now? What else was he going to do? Mope around and depress himself even more, or work through the days until the sadness became more bearable? It had to be the second option every time.

He missed Robin just sitting at her desk every day. He even missed just the anticipation of Robin sitting at her desk every day. It was best to get out of the office, which he did at every available opportunity and into the evenings too. When returning home from a late evening surveillance trip, Strike popped into his local Tesco for some supplies and the largest pack of Doom Bar he could carry. Oblivion beckoned. Once back at the flat, he wolfed down a pasta ready meal and opened the first of many beers.

How did we arrive at this position, he asked himself? Why last Friday? Why not three Fridays before that? Or three Fridays hence? Why now? Well of course his feelings for Robin had just been building up continually for weeks and months and he had run out of ideas about how to control them. Nothing worked. And then she had appeared in the pub, a bit upset.

Pictures from the previous week came back into view. At first Strike was thinking about the latter part of Friday night and felt urgent stirrings in his groin. Then, he told himself to behave and settled on the earlier events…..

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Robin, over here,” shouted Strike across the din in the pub. He was desperately trying to hold onto the spare seat he had bagged for his partner. Robin came over and pushed her way in beside Strike, their bodies touching because of the lack of space. Her face was serious and Strike was immediately on alert.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine, but I’ve just had some bad news from home. My Nana has died. Just earlier today.”

“Oh. Right. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Robin didn’t reply straight away and just drank from the wine glass waiting for her.

“Would you rather just go home Robin? You can’t really be feeling in the mood for a drink.”

“No, I’ll stay, really. It’s fine.” She took another large drink.

“How old was your Nana? Had she been ill?” asked Strike, softly.

“She was nearly 80. But she had been ill for quite a while. It all started when my Grandad died about 5 years ago. Nana just wasn’t the same after that. I mean, she coped by herself for a while, but my Mum and my aunts and uncles had to look after her more and more as time went on. Then in the past couple of years, she’s had dementia which had just slowly gotten worse. She’s been in a home for the past 6 months because it just got too difficult.”

“Yeah, happens a lot these days I think,” commented Strike.

“Mum really struggled with it all. Nana lived closest to us, so Mum did the lion’s share of running after her. But then it really got overwhelming. Y’know Mum would need to stay overnight a lot and she was always worried that Nana would fall or something. In the end, the whole family had to decide to place her in a home. Nana wasn’t really bothered too much it seemed, because she couldn’t remember any more. But it was actually hard for my Mum to accept. I’m sure it was a relief, but I think she felt like a failure for not being able to look after her own Mum. Which really isn’t fair, but that’s life I suppose.”

“That’s hard. That’s hard for everyone, but I imagine your Mum will be feeling it most. I assume you’re going up home for the funeral?”

“Is that ok?” asked Robin.

“Of course, whatever you need to do.”

“Thanks.”

Robin’s voice had come out a bit wobbly on her last word and she realised she was about to shed some tears. Oh shit! She pressed her fingers to her eyes in a vain attempt to stop the surge, but to no avail. The tears splashed down her cheeks as she gave a strangled gasp.

“Hey! Come here,” said Strike as he put his arm around Robin. It didn’t take much as they were already sitting so close.

Robin fished in her pocket for a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I don’t know where that came from.”

“You’re upset, of course you are, she was your Nana. I’m sure you must have lots of good memories of her. I don’t really know what it’s like cos we never had grandparents. But even when they’re old and lived a full life, they’ve still been a major part of your whole existence when you think about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true isn’t it?” sniffed Robin.

“You sure you don’t want to go home?” asked Strike again.

“Positive. I’d rather be here with you than sitting in front of the telly.”

“Well, I’m glad my company ranks higher than the telly at least,” laughed Strike.

“Only slightly, don’t get carried away,” joked Robin and she too had a giggle.

“There she is,” said Strike pointing at Robin and chuckling. “There’s the cheeky Robin that USUALLY turns up at the pub.”

“Shut up you! And go and get me another wine!” Robin couldn’t help smiling.

“Anything for you m’lady,” said Strike as he squeezed out of his seat to fight his way to the bar.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The screeching of a mobile phone ring woke Strike from his daydreaming. Lucy….

Oh fuck.


	7. I’ve Got Some Wine In

Chapter Seven

The funeral went ahead on the following Thursday. Robin’s Mum Linda was quite upset, but was grateful that Robin was there by her side for comfort. Family and friends gathered in the local hotel near Masham for some food and drinks as was traditional and then gradually dispersed home.

The Ellacott family arrived back at the family house and Linda retired for a nap after a tiring week. Robin took the dog out. She felt like a long walk across some fields just for a refreshing change. After pursuing a long circular route, Robin found herself at a turnstile and sat down for a rest. Rowntree alternated between running around after nothing in particular and lying at her feet.

Robin pulled out her phone. She hadn’t heard anything from Strike the whole week.

 

_Hi Cormoran,_

_The funeral was today. Everything went well. Mum has been a bit upset and she is tired, but that’s to be expected I suppose. I think I will stay a few more days until Sunday and then drive back down, so I’ll be back at work on Monday. Is that ok?_

_Hope you’re not working yourself into the ground. I know you!!_

_I’ll text again soon._

_Robin x_

_Hi Robin,_

_Glad it went ok. Funerals are never easy, doesn’t matter what anyone says._

_I do miss you in the office, but work is fine, don’t worry about it. Take care of your Mum and yourself._

_Corm x_

God, I miss him too. I wish he was here. For all her attempts to put Strike out of her mind, Robin had failed miserably. She hadn’t been able to avoid thinking about him for ages now, so the passing of 6 days or so wasn’t going to change that. And especially not after what had occurred…… phew….. Robin felt familiar but inappropriate feelings bubbling up and immediately chastised herself. “Get a bloody grip,” she said. But not for the first time, her thoughts turned back to that fateful night…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the pub and buoyed by more wine, Robin told yet another story about her Nana, which she counted as the fourth or fifth one in a row. Strike listened intently. Having never had grandparents, he never missed them, but Robin spoke so fondly of her grandmother that he was beginning to miss her himself!

As Robin spoke, Strike just gazed at her, but trying not to stare obviously. She really is gorgeous. And how come she is such a lovely person too? What are the odds? I always thought beauty had to come with prickly thorns.

“Can we get some food now?” asked Robin.

“I think you know the answer to that question Robin.”

“Yes, I think I do,” she said in a semi-sarcastic tone, nodding. “What about Chinese?”

 “Perfect,” said Strike. “Let’s go.”

Strike made his way out of the bar, Robin following closely behind. They started walking towards Strike’s favourite Cantonese restaurant, but Robin stumbled and fell over on her ankle. Strike had started to say something when he realised his companion was no longer beside him. He turned around to see Robin sitting on the pavement, her bag splayed out beside her.

“Robin! What happened?” Strike quickly walked back to her.

“I just went over on my ankle. Stupid boots!”

“Here, let me help,” said Strike as he reached down behind Robin and pulled her up in one swift movement. Robin was upright before she could even think about answering.

“Jesus!” she exclaimed. “Thanks.” Strike’s hands still lingered under Robin’s arms, making sure that she could stand on her own. “Are you hurt?”

“Erm, not sure. I’ll need to try to walk and see if my ankle is ok.” Strike let his hands fall, while Robin took a few faltering steps. “Yeah, I think it’s fine. Just need to walk it off.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” Robin nodded.

“Listen, let’s just get some takeaway and go back to mine. You’ve had enough going on today and you can put some ice on your ankle just in case.”

Strike was reluctant for the night to end, especially as Robin was feeling low and quite possibly now injured.

Robin looked unsure, “Erm…,” She could still feel large hands gripping the side of her body. Not quite on her breasts, but….

“I’ve got some wine in.” Strike could still feel Robin’s body under his fingers. And the hint of her breasts just an inch away….

“Well….. Ok….. if you put it like that.”

Before too long, they had arrived at the familiar, tiny attic flat, Robin still hobbling a little. Strike started dishing up the food and drinks while Robin browsed his CD collection.

“Have you not progressed to the world of downloads yet?” asked Robin.

“Erm, not quite. You’ll need to teach me. My nephews tried to show me last Christmas, but I think I was too sozzled to take any of it in.”

“Ok, I WILL teach you. Not tonight, but sometime soon.”

“Can’t wait. Then I can download all the crap songs in the charts,” said Strike enthusiastically, but with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Robin laughed.

“Grub’s up,” called Strike. “Going over to the table.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin was suddenly alerted to Rowntree barking at another dog nearby, squaring up for a scrap.

For fuck sake…..

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now away for a few days.  
> I never intended this story to be as long. Getting carried away......


	8. It’s A Classic Case Of Bad Timing

Chapter Eight

Well today is D-day, thought Strike. Today will be proof positive if two people who have been…… intimate……. and feel awkward about it can actually work with each other and ignore all their personal feelings. Can I do it? he asked. Can I really do it? I’ve got no choice. I HAVE to do it. I just have to.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin woke, but felt as though she had slept for only one hour. Maybe she had. She had certainly tossed and turned for a long time, her mind buzzing with thoughts and worries. Can this really work? I know that Cormoran will do it, he said he would. But what I’m really worried about is me! I can hardly string together two lucid thoughts. I’m the weakest link here, there’s no doubt. But what alternative do we have? I would just die if I had to leave, if I had to leave the job….. leave Cormoran…. No. I’ve got to be strong. I’ve got to be focused. Get up and get on with it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Hi Robin. How are you, alright?”

“Hi Cormoran. Not so bad thanks. And you?”

“Not so bad either. Things ok up north?”

 Robin shrugged. “So-so, y’know. It’ll take some time, but that’s how it goes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does,” Strike paused, trying not to gaze at Robin, suddenly aware of looking at her when previously he hadn’t really thought much about it. “Listen, I’ll let you get settled in again and then we can have a chat about jobs and stuff, ok?”

“Yeah, great. I’ll check my emails and then make us both some tea.” Robin was desperately trying not to blush, but trying not to only ever makes it worse.

Strike smiled and then went into his room, pushing the door closed a bit. He released a large breath and stood for a few seconds. His heart was beating unusually fast. But…. so far, so good. You can do this.

Robin rose to switch on the kettle and then returned to her chair, flicking open her inbox. Not for the first time, she patted her cool hands against her hot face to reduce her colour. Phew, just breathe. It’s going to be alright. It will. We can do this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Adam, there’s something I need to say,” said Robin cautiously. “I can’t see you anymore, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Adam looked away briefly, breathing deeply, but then his eyes returned to Robin, searching for a while.

“Are you seeing someone else?” he asked.

“No, no I’m not,” said Robin shaking her head. “I’m really not.”

“It’s just that…… to be honest…… mmm…..,” Adam paused, “…. to be honest, you’ve always seemed a bit detached, right from the off. You’re still in love with your ex-husband, aren’t you?”

“Erm….. no, I’m not.” Robin stalled for a few moments. “It’s complicated….”

“Look, it’s fine. Like I said, I’ve always felt you were holding back, so I’m not really surprised. Not really. I don’t know where you are in your head, but it’s not with me. I guess I just hoped that you would eventually get there, but…” Adam shrugged.

“I’m really sorry Adam. I could give you all the usual clichés, but you’re right. I think I’m just not ready for another relationship. Not yet anyway.”

“Fair enough.” There was an awkward silence for a while. “Look, that’s my drink finished. I’ll erm…. leave you to it and get off.” Adam gave Robin a quick peck on the cheek and then rose to leave.

“But…..”

“It’s a classic case of bad timing, eh? Best of luck. Bye Robin.” He squeezed her hand gently.

“Bye Adam. Thanks. And good luck too.” Robin gave a weak smile as Adam headed out of the bar.

Robin finished half a glass of wine in one go. It’s official. I am a bad person. Adam thinks I’m still in love with Matthew, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t even ‘man-up’ and tell him the real story, which is what he deserves. I’m turning into someone else, someone who does rash things and hurts people and cheats and makes excuses and …….

Fook.


	9. Here’s A Hypothetical Scenario For You

Chapter Nine

“So, Robin, where’ve you been?? Haven’t seen you in ages!!!”

“God, I know. It was just one thing after another for a while there. I had too much work on at first and then…. what was it again? Oh yeah, I think I dropped you lot for a date with Adam because he couldn’t swap his shifts around.” Robin raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry girls, sorry, sorry, sorry, I know that’s a hanging offence against womankind….. and then, erm…. well, the latest was my Nana died.”

There was a collective “aawwwww” from her hockey team. “Sorry Robin, we didn’t realise,” said Naomi.

“Oh, it’s fine. She had been ill for a while and then she just slipped away really. Away to join my Grandad! I was up in Yorkshire for a week or so for the funeral.”

“Still, that’s a rotten time to go through. Hey, let’s get another round in and drink a toast to “Nana”, eh?”

Again, there was a collective “Yeeeaaah!” with arms raised all round.

The drinks soon arrived, the toast was given and conversation soon turned to other matters.

“So, what’ve you guys been up to?” asked Robin. “I see you won the games that I missed. I must be dragging you down.”

“No way!!! You’re one of the better ones in the team, it was a fluke! You were really on form today, don’t you think?”

And so the drinks and the conversation flowed – hockey, jobs, studying, annoying housemates, boyfriends, TV shows, diets, shoes, haircuts………

“How long is that you’ve been seeing Adam now?”

“Erm, it’s over. I broke it off,” replied Robin.

“What?? Oh no! Why? He seemed like a good guy.”

Robin shrugged and lowered her eyes. “Yeah, he was. Very nice. I don’t know, I just… it just didn’t feel right, y’know?” She looked up and gave a small smile, but all the time her face was reddening.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” nodded Robin.

Naomi looked at her from narrowed eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling?”

“No, no, that’s it,” said Robin, but her high facial colour hadn’t diminished.

Naomi kept looking at her suspiciously, but then said “Ok, I’ll leave it for now, but I’ll get it out of you some other time.”

Robin laughed. “Right, more drinks!”

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Strike sat back on the sofa, Doom Bar in hand, feeling very replete from his meal.

“Compliments to the chef Ilsa. That was great. You’ll say it was Nick, but I know that it was really you.”

“Why thank you Sir! Although I do believe you would eat anything put in front of you.”

“That is true. I can’t deny it. But I can still distinguish good home cooking from cheap stodgy crap.”

Ilsa laughed. “Hey, Nick,” she shouted, “Bring me through a topped up wine, will you?”

“What did your last servant die of?” came the muffled response from the kitchen.

“Being cheeky,” replied Ilsa.

“So, tell us everything that’s been happening Corm. It must be about two months since we saw you last.”

“Nothing much.”

“You always say that!”

Nick appeared with a large glass of wine and his own beer bottle. “What does he always say?”

“That nothing much is happening,” repeated Ilsa.

“It probably is and he’s just not saying. We’ll see it on the news or read it in the papers.”

Strike laughed and took a slug of his beer.

“How’s your love life? You’re obviously not seeing a woman tonight. Or are you?” probed Ilsa.

“It’s fine, thanks and no.”

“How’s Robin?”

“Why do you always ask about Robin straight after my love life?”

“Because the two should be going together, that’s why. You know that. Deep down. Somewhere in there.” Ilsa tapped her temple, referring to Strike’s brain.

Strike sighed and rolled his eyes. “How many times?”

“We’re going to keep on at you ‘til it happens. So you might as well do something about it,” said Nick.

“Ok, here’s a hypothetical scenario for you. Robin and I get together, we sleep together, then in the morning and each following day we have to see each other in the office and try to work. How do you think that’s going to go?”

“It would be fine. What’s to worry about?” asked Nick.

“Have you two ever worked beside someone you were involved with?”

Ilsa and Nick both looked at each other.

“No, thought not,” said Strike in a sarcastic tone. “So you two don’t know what it could be like. It could be an absolute fuck-up.”

“It’s possible. But it could be really fantastic too,” said Ilsa, chuckling.

Strike scowled and then said, “Right, interrogation over. Nick, get the football on.”

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Back at her flat, Robin thought about her hockey team. Most of them had boyfriends, or even girlfriends. I do like my freedom and being single, but…. Oh Christ. I do miss having a significant other. But it has to be a man who will just let me be myself, who is happy for me to be happy, who is loving and kind and cuddly and sexy and ignites a big spark, just…..

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Back at home, Strike recalled the banter of his best friends and couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. Why can’t I have that? Someone to live with, someone to laugh with, someone who understands me, someone to cook for or who’ll cook for me, someone who’ll watch the football, someone gentle and pretty, just…..

Strike started to remove his leg. Let’s face it. I’m as miserable as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments - I really do appreciate them.  
> I'm off again for a while, so hopefully I can think up some good ideas to get this story to its destination.


	10. Do Some More Damage

Chapter Ten

“Right, I’m heading out for the rest of the day. Will I meet you in the pub later?” asked Strike.

“Erm, yeah, ok,” replied Robin, trying to avoid any kind of glance in his direction, concentrating on the papers on her desk.

“Good. Usual time, about 6?” Strike was putting his coat on and then turned to open the door to leave for his scheduled meeting with Wardle.

“Sounds fine.”

“See you later then,” said Strike, giving a small wave.

Robin raised her eyes. “Bye,” she responded, smiling in return.

Once the door was shut, Robin let out a long breath. How much longer can I do this? It’s been 4 weeks now. It seems like the elephant in the room is absolutely colossal and yet Strike just gets on with it. Thank God for that, at least.

Strike paused at the top of the stairs. I never thought this would be so fucking hard. I could swear each day is about 48 hours long. He sighed. You stupid prick. She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want you, leave it in the past. Nothing to be done about it. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and started down the steps.

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Robin arrived to find Strike at their usual table, two drinks already lined up. They started to chat about their work and moved swiftly on to their next drinks.

“And how was your research? Any progress?” asked Strike, as he started his second pint.

“It’s really slow. There isn’t a good search facility, so I have to go through each likely record. To be honest, it’s doing my head in. But I can’t think what else we can do.” Robin reached for her wine and gulped it down.

“I can’t think of any other way either.” Strike paused. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re doing. I know it’s tedious, but if we find something it would be real progress. And the client is willing to pay for all the time we’re spending.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Robin shrugged. “I’ll keep on it, don’t worry.”

“I know you’ll keep on it. You’ll keep on until the bitter end if I know you.”

Robin nodded and smiled to herself in agreement.

“So, how was Wardle?”

“Usual. Sarcastic, cagey, cards close to his chest. I think he secretly likes me though.”

Robin giggled and Strike glanced at her warmly.

“He definitely likes you a lot. He’ll just never admit it,” exclaimed Robin.

Strike chuckled a little, but then started to think of an alternative meaning to those words, how they could be applied to other people, or another person to be more precise. He took another swig of his Doom Bar.

Robin had immediately realised the double meaning of what she had said and started to blush. Damn my stupid face. It ALWAYS gives me away. She raised her wine glass to her lips to try to disguise it. Strike looked over and sensed her unease. Is she really thinking the same thing as me?

“Do you……? started Robin.

“Do I what?”

“Do you…. think about…. that night?

“What night?”

Robin looked down in shyness, but couldn’t help smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” added Strike.

“No, no, of course you don’t. Sorry, my mistake, just got a bit confused there,” said Robin. “Must be too much wine.”

“Must be.”

Robin quickly asked about weekend plans.

“Football,” said Strike succinctly. “Meeting Nick.”

“Hockey for me, then whatever happens after,” replied Robin.

They both sat in silence for a while, drinking quicker than they should and pretending to avoid the other’s furtive glances.

“I’m just nipping out for a fag. Won’t be long,” said Strike as he rose from his seat.

Robin cursed herself for mentioning the unmentionable. For Christ’s sake girl, you were the one who wanted it forgotten. So who was it that blurted out about ‘that night’? Well, no prizes for guessing, the stupid cow with a big mouth and all the empty wine glasses piling up.

Strike couldn’t believe Robin had asked about ‘that night’. She was the one who didn’t want any of it. And yet, she opened the door again, brought it back into our lives, brought it back to mind. As if it’s ever out of my mind. So what did I do? Yeah, I just stuck to the “all forgotten” script. Maybe passed up a golden chance to resume those forbidden hopes again? Who knows, but either way I’m a stupid fucker.

“I do think about it,” announced Strike, as he resumed his seat.

“About what?”

“That night.”

“What night?”

“That night.”

“Oh.” Robin couldn’t get her wine down her throat quickly enough.

“Apart from anything else, it’s the last time I had sex, so yeah, I think about it,” explained Strike.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Strike laughed, but then a period of awkward silence followed.

Robin couldn’t help herself. “How can it be the last time you… erm…. y’know? What about Kimberley?”

“Not seeing her anymore.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Since when?”

“Since…. that night.”

“Oh shit! You didn’t…….” Robin started.

“Don’t worry, I did it for my own reasons.”

Robin sighed loudly. “We shouldn’t be talking about this. We agreed.”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Yeah, I know! I’m sorry. Just…” she shrugged, “….curious.”

“Curious…..” repeated Strike.

“Listen, I’ve screwed this up enough. I’ll go,” said Robin, clutching at her bag.

“No, please don’t do that.”

“No, I really think I’ve done enough damage for one night.”

“Just stay for fuck sake. Do some more damage, go on.” Strike started to laugh through his last words.

Robin looked at him sternly, but then started laughing herself.

“You…..” she couldn’t keep a straight face, “You are a……” she couldn’t find the words, “You always make me laugh when I shouldn’t,” she finally said in between giggling.

“Good,” smirked Strike.

“Just….. stop it…… you’ve got me all…. flustered, you bastard,” said Robin, still chuckling, but blushing furiously. “I am definitely going home now before there’s any more damage.” Robin started to put on her coat.

“Fine. Have it your way. Just make sure you’re in the office on Monday. And every day after that too. We agreed.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there, don’t worry Mr Boss. Goodnight,” said Robin with a fond glance, turning towards the door.

“Goodnight. Safe journey. Text me when you’re home,” Strike called after her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin sat on the Tube train, staring into space. What was that all about? Who knows? But…..he’s thinking about it.

Strike sat in the pub, staring at the optics behind the bar. What in the name of Christ just happened? But……she’s thinking about it. Big time.

Fuck yeah.


	11. You Stole That

Chapter Eleven

A few weeks passed without much incident. But actually, that was the trouble. Where was Robin these days? Was it work or was it something else? I don’t think we’re THAT busy that she can be out all the time. I’m not aware of any big surveillance jobs just now. But admittedly, I’m not up to speed on all of Robin’s jobs. Maybe I should be.

I am NOT liking this one bit.

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Robin was sitting in a coffee shop in Clapham, drinking a hot tea and toying with an egg sandwich. She was waiting for a surveillance target to appear as they regularly did at this time of day. This was only one of three surveillance jobs that Robin had on the go. They were all relatively minor, following spouses for evidence of cheating. Or perhaps not, as the case may be.

Robin knew that Strike wasn’t fully aware of all of her jobs and so she felt some freedom to come and go as she pleased. Well, that’s what I’m telling myself anyway. After that disaster of an evening at the pub a few weeks ago, I just can’t trust myself about “that night”. Every time I see him, I’m just dying to know what he’s thinking and one of these times I’m going to crack, there’s no two ways about it. Clearly, I need to put some space between us. It has to be done. I’m not really bunking off work. I am still working, I’m just not doing it all in the office. I’m doing the surveillance, I’m doing the reports, I’m doing the research and making the calls. I’m just making sure I do it away from the office, at home, away from him. Just for a little while. Just until I get this out of my system.

Robin sighed. Why did I buy this sandwich? It’s not really what I’m hungry for today. A red haired woman in gym clothes starting to push open the door to the café. Oh-oh, look sharp! There’s the target coming in…….

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“Hi Robin, can you come in to the office tonight when you’re finished? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Bloody voicemail, thought Strike. She’d better hear this and turn up later. Or else………. Or else what? What am I going to do? Seriously? Leave more messages that just get progressively more angry? Stomp round to her flat and demand to see her like some crazy, stalker ex-boyfriend? Jesus fuck. What am I becoming?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Hi Cormoran. Sorry I’ve been out all day.” Robin shouted through to Strike’s room, almost throwing her bag down on the desk and removing her coat.

“Hello Miss Ellacott,” came the muffled response.

“I’ll just get myself a tea. Do you want one?

“Yeah, great.”

Robin made up the mugs almost without thinking and then carried them through to Strike’s room.

“Thanks,” said Strike. “So, what have you been up to today?”

“I’ve been trailing an allegedly cheating spouse in Clapham the past few days,” explained Robin.

“Oh. Right. Any luck?”

“Nothing really concrete yet. I’ve been listening in to some of her conversations. There might be something there, but it’s hard to tell right now. I need more time.”

“Right.”

“So, what’s happening with you?” asked Robin.

“Wondering what you’ve been doing,” came the dry response.

“What d’you mean?” Robin’s face fell.

“Are you avoiding me?” Strike asked quietly.

“No.”

“You are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Well I think you are.”

“For fuck sake….” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Don’t ‘for fuck sake’ me Robin. You are,” Strike replied, irritated.

”I’m not. I’m just……” she shrugged, “….keeping out your way a bit, that’s all.” Robin kept her eyes down, sipping her tea.

“And why do you think you need to do that?” probed Strike.

“You know why Cormoran. I made a complete fool of myself that night in the pub and I just need some space to….. get my head straight.”

There was a silence while Strike thought about his response. Robin fidgeted in her chair.

“I’ve done what you asked me to do Robin. Nothing in here has changed as far as I’m concerned. Nothing at all.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve successfully put it in a little compartment in your brain. I just need to catch up, that’s all.”

“Robin………”

Strike hesitated. There were so many things he wanted to say, was desperate to say. But right now, he had to pick the right words. It was too precarious.

“Robin, can you just not do the avoiding thing? Going missing? Can you just not do that? It fucking does my head in.” Strike ran his hand through his unruly hair.

“Yeah, sorry,” blushed Robin. “I didn’t think. I’ll be back to normal on Monday.”

“Promise?” Strike implored.

“Promise.”

“Ok,” Strike accepted quietly.

“Ok. See you Monday.” Robin rose to return to her desk.

“Yeah. Have a good weekend.”

“You too.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Strike was ensconced in front of his small telly, drinking some Doom Bar. Tonight’s televised football match was like a game of chess, too much passing and not enough action. His mind started to wander…..

Robin was sitting on her bed, browsing some clothing websites on her laptop. I don’t like any of this stuff. Her mind started to stray……

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Mmm, that takeaway was really tasty. I’ve never been there before.”

“Yeah, I must admit it’s becoming one of my favourites. I’ve sat in for meals a few times too,” commented Strike.

“Delicious.”

Strike bent down and opened his fridge and the small freezer compartment inside. He took out a frozen object and walked back over to the sofa.

“Here. Put your ankle up on the chair and put this on it.” He handed the frozen icepack to Robin.

“Oh great. My ankle doesn’t feel too bad, but a dose of this will help I’m sure.” Robin took off her boots, arranged the free chair in front of the sofa and placed her foot and the icepack thereon.

“Aaaaahhhhhhh. That’s bloody cold! Well, obviously,” moaned Robin.

“Have some wine,” said Strike, handing a small glass to her.

“Oh thanks. You’re looking after me fantastically well.”

“Least I could do. You’ve had bad news to deal with today.”

“Mmmm.”

Strike opened a can of Doom Bar and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Robin.

“Cheers. Here’s to my Nana,” said Robin, clinking her glass against Strike’s beer can.

“Cheers,” replied Strike, taking a large swig from the can.

“How does the ankle feel? Is it working yet?” asked Strike, pointing towards the icepack.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. The coolness does feels really good actually.”

Robin rearranged the icepack on her ankle and then sat back against the sofa cushions. She glanced across at Strike who had leaned right back himself and closed his eyes. They sat for a time in comfortable silence as Robin took the chance to examine Strike’s face. She suddenly felt irresistibly drawn towards her partner, pulled in like a magnet.

“Can I ask you something? Something personal?” enquired Robin.

“Depends.”

“Can I touch your beard? I’ve never felt one before. I’ve never been close to a man who had one and I’m curious what it feels like.”

Strike opened up one eye and peered at Robin suspiciously. “Go on then,” he smiled.

Strike closed his eye again. Robin adjusted her body sideways and then reached her hand across to gently stroke the side of Strike’s face. It’s really quite soft, thought Robin. I imagined it might feel jagged and coarse, but it’s not at all. Her hand stroked up and down a few times and then her fingers travelled over the scar on Strike’s top lip.

Strike kept his eyes closed, but his heart was racing at the feel of Robin caressing his face.

“What happened to your lip?”

“A childhood injury. Came off my bike going too fast down a hill. The doctor saved my teeth, but he didn’t do such a great job of the stitching unfortunately.”

Robin’s hand was still resting on Strike’s face, on his scar. “I think it’s intriguing. It does something to your face, gives it a certain je ne sais quoi, as they say.”

Strike chuckled and Robin could feel his mouth move beneath her fingers.

Robin was then engulfed by a pressing urge. I really want to kiss him. She moved her hand to the other side of Strike’s face and then pressed her open lips against his, her eyes flickering shut.

Strike’s eyes sprang open and he gave a faint moan of surprise. Robin pulled away.

Strike was desperately trying to process what was happening as he looked at Robin’s guilty face.

“You stole that,” he said after a few moments.

Robin giggled like a naughty child. “Erm, yeah….. I did.”

“Did nobody teach you that stealing is wrong?”

“Does it always have to be wrong?” asked Robin, her eyes suddenly serious.

Strike looked searchingly at Robin, alternating between her eyes and her lips. Robin did the same in return, being pulled in seemingly by hypnosis.

“Always,” said Strike gently and then he found himself saying, “But there are ways to make amends.”

“How?”

“Give it back.”

“But….how do I do that?” asked Robin, confused.

“Like this……”

Strike’s hand came up to pull Robin’s head firmly towards him as he claimed her mouth with his own. He immediately felt his crotch react with the unmistakable beginnings of arousal. He pushed his lips across Robin’s, wanting to probe and taste every corner, every angle. His tongue was desperate to go exploring further, but he used nearly all his self-control to hold back, fearful of going too far, too soon. Instead, he pushed his free hand through Robin’s silken hair, fulfilling one of his secret longings.

Although Robin had initiated the stolen kiss, she was still unprepared for the power of Strike’s response. She had often fantasised about this moment, imagined it a hundred times over. But nothing came close to the torrent pumping through her veins at the feel of Strike’s lips on hers. Nothing came close to the stirrings in her groin, so urgent so soon. Her mouth drifted open instinctively with no thought from her brain, only her base, raw impulses. She had never envisaged that the feeling of Strike’s hand moving through her hair could set such a blaze burning inside her. This was…..breathtaking.

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Strike’s mobile phone rang as he hurriedly tried to dampen his rising erection.

Lucy. Again! In the name of fuck………


	12. You Are Never Going To Get That Again

Chapter Twelve

It was Saturday night and Strike was returning from another surveillance shift. The subject was a restaurant manager, whose wife suspected he was having an affair. In recent months he had told his wife that he had to work every Saturday night because of staff shortages and pressure from his bosses to maintain standards. This was the first occasion that Strike had tailed him from his home to the restaurant, but he had not detected him leaving the premises at any unusual times.

The next stop on the Tube line was Tooting. That’s where Robin is, thought Strike. And no, you’re not just going to pop round to see her. If she’s in. No, you are not going to do that. Any why not? Well because, that would be really stupid wouldn’t it? One, she’s made it clear she doesn’t want an involvement with you, two, you’ve only been to her place a few times when she was moving in and three, she probably won’t be in anyway. Saturday night? Come on. She’ll be out with her friends or a new man…… Christ, that particular thought was not at all pleasant. Stay on the train and don’t be the biggest, stupid fucker there ever was.

The train pulled into Tooting station. Strike found himself hobbling up the last of the stairs to reach the street outside. How on earth did that happen?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin was leaving the restaurant with her friend Jenni, who was in London on a visit from Yorkshire for a few days.

“I’ll need to run Robin. The last train is in 45 minutes from Kings Cross.” Jenni was looking at her watch.

“Oh don’t worry. Just go. I’ve run for that train a few times myself!”

“Great to see you though. Thanks for meeting up,” said Jenni.

“No, thank you! It was lovely to see you and let me know the next time you’re down and we can arrange some stuff in advance.”

“Definitely will do.”

“Have a safe journey,” said Robin.

“Yeah, see you soon!” replied Jenni.

The friends exchanged kisses before Jenni ran off in the direction of Leicester Square station.

Robin hesitated for a few minutes. This station would be good for me to get home too. Yeah, perfect. One line straight home, no changes. So why are my feet not moving right now? Thinking too much about him of course, Cormoran. Well, it’s not too late yet and he is just up the road, literally. I could just casually drop by, say I was in town with a friend and was passing. I could even go into the office and say I had to pick up a file to read over the weekend. Yeah, that sounds more plausible doesn’t it?

Before she had even finished her thoughts, Robin was already walking in the direction of Denmark Street.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Strike was starving. I’ll just pop in here for a kebab. Ten minutes later, he was slowly walking the short distance towards Robin’s shared house. As he approached, he crossed the road and perched himself on a wall belonging to another house. He took the time to finish his take-away meal.

There are lights on, so someone must be home. Impossible to tell if that included Robin though, as her bedroom was at the back of the house. Will I ask, at least? I mean, I am here now, so close and someone should answer the door. If she’s not in, her housemates will say and no harm done. If she IS in, I can just say that I was in the area for surveillance and remembered that her house was close by. Simple. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? She’s in, but she doesn’t want to see me, is actually angry that I would turn up like this and tells me to fuck off. What’s the best that can happen? She’s really pleased to see me and invites me in and………..

Bollocks. This is bollocks. Just listen to yourself.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin crossed over Denmark Street to the opposite side from the office and the guitar shops. It was possible to see some of the office windows and lights from this vantage point, but it was difficult to see the attic flat because of the angles. It could look as though there were lights on when there weren’t and vice versa.

It’s Saturday night. What are the chances of him being in? Yeah, I think that would be 1,000 to 1. Sitting in? On a Saturday night? He’ll be out with his friends, in a pub somewhere, watching football somewhere, on a date with a woman…….Shit, I don’t like that thought at all. He’s not with Kimberley anymore, he said so. Still, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t hook up with someone else if he had the chance. Would he? Well, it was ME who said I wanted it all forgotten….

Robin thought she could see some light from the attic windows. She crossed the road to linger outside the street door that she entered and exited nearly every day of her life. So, what happens when I buzz? If he’s not in, there’s no answer. If he IS in, I can just say that I was in town, close by. Easy. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? He’s in, but he doesn’t want to see me, is probably with a woman in the flat and tells me to go home. What’s the best that can happen? He’s really glad to hear from me and invites me in and………..

Crap. This is total crap. Girl, you are delusional.

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Robin walked quickly through the Tube station and then ran to catch the incoming train bound for Tooting. I could have been home ages ago and in a nice hot bath or snuggled up with a book. Instead, I’ve been chasing a fantasy around central London as if I’m in a movie or something.

She just couldn’t stop thinking about him… Cormoran... his eyes... stubble... lips... tongue... smell… hands... Oh God, those hands… hair... chest... more and more hair!... bloody hell… strong arms and thighs... his oooohhh!!!

Bugger, bugger, BUGGER. I’m absolutely, bloody obsessed. And I pushed him away. That was ME. What a dumb, stupid cow.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

On the Tube once again, Strike sat down in a quiet carriage. Good to take the weight off, he thought. And if I had an ounce of sense, I would already be home long ago, with my leg off, relaxing, watching the football. I’m a fucking arsehole.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about her… Robin... her hair… eyes… soft lips… taste... fingers… smell… soft skin… oh Christ, lots of soft, creamy skin… breasts... oh Jesus fuck… curves, curves, curves everywhere... her oooohhhh!!!

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Listen up mate. You. Are. Never. Going. To. Get. That. Again.

Never, fucking ever.


	13. You Really Must Cormoran

Chapter Thirteen

“Lucy, listen…..”

Pause

“Yeah, Lucy, could you just calm down….”

Pause

“Lucy, for fuck sake, can you just shut up for a minute and let me talk?”

Pause

“Right. Good. Now listen… please. I want to help and I will help, ok? I just need to discuss it with Robin first.”

Pause

“Yeah, she’s due in any minute. In fact, I think I can hear her in the kitchen.”

Pause

“Lucy, for crying out loud. Honestly, I will speak to her as soon as I’m off the phone and then I’ll call you straight back. Ok?

Pause

“Good. Now can you do something for me? Can you please just sit down and take some breaths and chill out? It’ll be alright. It will. I’ll be talking to Robin right now and I’ll phone you back.”

Pause

“Yeah, bye for now.”

Strike ended the call on his mobile phone and then uttered, “For fuck sake…” under his breath. His sister had a knack of transmitting her anxiety to him, no matter how much he resolved to ignore her mostly unjustified nonsense.

Robin had arrived into the office and heard Strike’s side of the telephone conversation whether she wanted to or not. Strike’s voice always rose a few notches when he was talking to his sister.

“Cup of tea?” she shouted through to his office. “Or something stronger?”

“Tea would be great, thanks,” came the deflated reply.

Robin made up a second mug and added some freshly purchased biscuits to a plate. It sounded as though Strike would be needing them. She then took her peace offerings through to his office.

“Everything alright?” she asked in genuine concern.

“Fuck knows Robin, fuck knows,” said Strike in exasperation. “Sorry for my language,” he sighed. “Can you sit down and I’ll explain?”

“Sure.”

Strike immediately tucked into his tea and several biscuits disappeared in seconds. He reached for a fourth one as Robin watched him with worry, wracking her brain to figure out what was wrong.

Strike looked across at Robin. Boy, was she a sight for sore eyes. Every single time. What would I do without her?

“I need to go down to Cornwall Robin. I reckon for two weeks, maybe more. Would you be able to look after things here on your own?”

“Of course, no problem.” Robin paused for a moment, searching Strike’s face. “What’s wrong? Is it your family?”

“Yeah. My uncle Ted has just had a hip replacement. Lucy has been down there helping out, but she can’t stay for too long because of the boys and school and everything. I really need to chip in and help too. My uncle is a big man you see, so it’s hard for my aunt Joan or even Lucy to help him move around. I think my inherited bulk is required for this one.”

Robin smiled. “I see. Yeah, well, you must go. You must. You really must Cormoran,” she implored.

“You don’t mind? I hate dropping this on you suddenly like this.”

“No, really, you must go. How many times have I been away and you’ve had to cover for me?”

“Well, that would be great Robin. Thanks a lot,” said Strike sincerely.

“No worries. When are you planning to go?”

“As soon as. I was hoping later today if possible? This morning, would you be able to re-schedule my existing appointments? That would give me time to book the train and pack my stuff.”

“Sure, I can do that. When do you think you’ll be back, for re-scheduling?” asked Robin.

“I’m thinking I’ll be away for two weeks, but I know these things take time. Maybe three.”

“Will I make it three weeks, just to be on the safe side? I can meet some clients too if they really can’t wait. I can at least get their details and hand over to you when you’re back,” suggested Robin.

“Would you have time for that? I know you’re busy too, but I am a bit concerned about being away for so long.”

“Of course I can do it. And I can call and text you all the time too,” replied Robin.

Strike thought for a few seconds, running his hands over his face and eyes.

“Alright, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m definitely sure. Let’s shake on it,” said Robin as she extended her hand out to Strike with a smile. He took it and held it firmly.

“Thanks Robin. I really appreciate this.”

Robin blushed as Strike released her hand after holding it for far too long. “Right, I’ll get started on those calls then,” she said, turning to go back to her desk.

“And I’ll speak to Lucy again,” said Strike painfully, rolling his eyes.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By early afternoon, Strike was booked and packed and was tidying up his desk, filing papers away. He emerged into the outer office.

“Ok Robin, that’s me all set and ready to go I guess.”

“Right, well, I would normally say have a super time, but I don’t know if that’s quite appropriate.” Robin chuckled lightly.

“Erm, no, probably not,” laughed Strike. “But I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“You’ll likely enjoy spending this time with your aunt and uncle, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

Robin came around her desk to hover near to the door, as Strike moved to lift his duffle bag over his shoulder. They looked at each other for a few moments, uncertain of their next moves.

“Well, good luck with everything. I hope your uncle gets better really soon.” Robin paused and glanced down. “I’ll miss you.”

“Thanks. I’ll miss you too,” replied Strike, looking deep into Robin’s eyes, which he detected were shining with unshed tears.

Robin was blinking furiously as she looked away. “Remember to call and send texts with your progress,” demanded Robin.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be in contact every single day.”

Strike opened the door, which Robin then held and he stepped across the threshold.

“Bye then. Speak to you soon,” said Strike.

“Bye. Have a good journey,” replied Robin and she waved as Strike started to descend the stairs. Robin then closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, feeling suddenly bereft. She wiped at the tears which had crept out from the sides of her eyes. The door moved slightly behind her.

“Oh,” exclaimed Robin.

“Just me,” said Strike as his head and half his body appeared around the door. “I forgot to say, can you send out the fees for the Anderson and the Wilson jobs? They’re finished now and I’ve noted all the relevant stuff on the file.”

“Sure,” nodded Robin.

“Great, see you later,” waved Strike as he disappeared out of the door once again.

Robin took some deep breaths, hoping that Strike hadn’t seen the evidence of her tears. She started to move back towards her desk when the door opened again.

“Sorry, something else, can you look at the notes and the photos on the Crammond file? I wouldn’t mind a second opinion. If you’ve got time, that is…”

Robin smiled. “Of course, yeah, I’ll have a look.”

“Brilliant. Right, I’m away this time,” replied Strike. “Bye.” He flashed a large smile as he left the office again.

“Bye Cormoran.”

Robin didn’t move, in two minds in case the door opened again. She then heard Strike’s footsteps disappearing down the stairs and she went towards the kitchen where she filled the kettle and flicked the switch on.

Suddenly, Robin heard hurried steps and the office door flew open again. She turned in fright and it was Strike again, slightly breathless this time. Before she could speak, Strike was right in front of her, his hands on her shoulders.

“Robin….” There was a pause while Strike searched for words. “Robin, I really appreciate this so much.” He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her hair. He then pulled back and brushed a kiss lightly to her forehead.

“I’m very grateful - thanks,” he said earnestly, holding her face with both hands before exiting out of the door for the final time.

Robin stood stock still, looking at the door, still able to feel hands… and a kiss… and a squeeze… and a smell… and a look. That look. She felt tears welling up again.

Fook. And bugger. And fook.


	14. That Night

Chapter Fourteen

The train to Cornwall was long and tedious. Strike slept for a good bit of the way and regularly munched on the sandwiches and snacks which he had bought at the station. He checked his phone often, but he had only received a few messages and work related emails which could wait until later.

It was far too early to hear anything from Robin. He had only left her a few hours ago, for goodness sake. But you never know, he told himself. She had tears in her eyes when he left, he was sure of it. He had seen them being blinked away and then he could have sworn that Robin was wiping at her eyes when Strike poked his head back in the door. Why was that? Can I flatter myself that she was upset at me leaving? Can I assume that it had anything to do with me at all?

Strike thought back to the way he had left. It just didn’t feel right for him to say “bye” and then leave. He had tried to think of some valid excuses to try again, hence the first two returns to ask about work. He had then made it down to the office below before he thought, “Fuck it,” and stopped. His legs had almost ran back up to see Robin one last time, to see her gorgeous face. He knew that embracing her was a gamble, but he just couldn’t help himself. He needed to feel her, to smell her, to touch her hair before going away for a long three weeks. It could have been a disastrous move, but hopefully Robin hadn’t been offended. He didn’t get that impression.

And now what? Well. Three weeks in Cornwall, looking after Ted and Joan and trying to keep up with progress in the office as much as he could. A part of him was quite looking forward to seeing his aunt and uncle again. It had been far too long. It had been too easy to smother himself in work and his own problems. Time to help his family for a not unwelcome change.

As the landscape changed while the train travelled across southern England, Strike drifted off to sleep again.

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Robin was distracted for the rest of the day. That final image of Strike holding and looking at her was still at the forefront of her mind. Even though it wasn’t on mute, she still checked her mobile sometimes. Just in case.

At 5.30, she gave up and went home. Christ, Strike has left me in charge of the office and I can hardly even get through the first day. This does not bode well, she told herself as she wearily ran a bath. Right, get your shit together. Tomorrow, you need to buck up your ideas and get on with the work. You need to be twice as efficient as normal and stop daydreaming!

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Strike was gladly welcomed into his aunt and uncle’s abode in St Mawes. He quickly saw the extent to which they needed his help. Ted was almost immobile, only trudging gingerly through the house several times a day with the aid of a zimmer. Joan was anxious every time he moved in case he fell over and broke both his hips! After a few days, Strike saw them relax noticeably, knowing that he was there to do any heavy lifting and supporting. Strike could sense himself relaxing too, and couldn’t help feeling quite glad that he had come.

A new routine quickly developed. Strike rose not too early, helped Ted to dress and wash and get to breakfast. In the morning, afternoon and evenings Strike would accompany Ted outside for a stroll for as long or as short as he could manage. He shared most meals with Ted and Joan, and later in the evening, Strike would usually go to the local pub for a few drinks or just wander down to the beach, enjoying a couple of cigarettes. In between, he would monitor his emails and texts and without fail, he would call Robin in the late evening.

Their conversations were always the highlight of his day. Robin would give a full report of what was happening in the office and with cases, Strike would report on his progress with Ted and they would inevitably end up chatting about other everyday topics. As soon as the calls were over, Strike couldn’t wait for the next one. But, so far, so good.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For Robin, the following work days were much more productive. After Strike had started to text and call on a regular basis, she felt encouraged and optimistic that she could take care of things. I can do this, of course I can, she told herself. The phone was ringing regularly with would-be clients looking to make appointments with Strike on his return and Robin also got to meet her own clients. Although busy, she still found time to progress some investigations of her own. The downside was she rarely made it home before 9pm, but she often just lost track of the time. And anyway, she was doing this for Strike. And for herself of course. But really it was for Strike and she would do anything for him.

The nightly calls from Strike were what she looked forward to the most. She loved reporting all the office progress to him and he sounded more relaxed as each day passed. She longed to say how much she missed him, but it hardly seemed right, did it? I mean, he is down there looking after family and depending on me to keep London matters in order. It wouldn’t help at all to come across as a needy partner, even if it would be nice just to say “I miss you.”

Oh well, three weeks will go by in no time, won’t it?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

About 10 days had gone past, when Strike found himself walking back from the beach. He had just finished his daily call with Robin. She had sounded chirpy as usual, but there was something in her voice, something unspoken at the end which Strike couldn’t put his finger on.

As he returned to the house and got ready for bed, he went over the conversation again. They only really talked about work and there weren’t any problems there. No, it was as if she wanted to say something and was holding back. He knew Robin well enough to detect the different nuances in her voice and there was definitely something. Or, was it the something that HE had wanted to say? The something that he had wanted to say to her every night since he had arrived? Fuck it, every night since..........Yeah, well.

Strike settled back to try to sleep. But tonight was no different to any other night in the past weeks. He thought back to “that night”, played it over in his mind again. Only, this time......

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin had had a particularly hard day. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t manage, but it had just been one of those days. Things broke down, clients were a bit narky on the phone, the Tube was slow and hot and crowded, she was feeling tired. Of course, none of that was conveyed to Strike. No, everything was ok, no worries at all.

But Strike had seemed a little bit funny on the call. Just his usual tone really, economical with words, practical as ever, a few witty comments. But there was something else near the end. Almost as if he was wanting to say something, but just couldn’t. Or maybe wouldn’t. She knew Strike well enough to detect the different subtleties in his voice and there was definitely a little frisson of.........what? God, who knows?

Robin was already in bed and snuggled deeper, switching off the bedside lamp. But tonight was no different to any other night in the past weeks. She thought back to “that night”, played it over in her mind again. Only, this time......

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Strike pulled back, rose to his feet and pulled Robin up off the sofa with him. He placed his hands on her arms as he said:

“Robin, are you sure you…….?”

“Sssshhhhh,” whispered Robin, putting her fingers over Strike’s mouth as if to silence him, her eyes full of desire. She reached up to replace her fingers with her lips to resume the kiss.

Strike wrapped his arms around Robin and returned the kiss with some intensity. He wanted to devour her soft, full mouth forever. He wanted to touch every part of her and didn’t know where to start. Robin revelled in the sensation of Strike’s lips on hers, his tongue seeking insistently. She responded in kind, wanting to savour him fully in return. Her tongue licked in and out of Strike’s mouth and over his scar and lips continuously. Her hands ran through his hair and across his stubble, still fascinated by the texture and thickness of both. Strike’s hand roamed over Robin’s back, up and down over her blouse and eventually coming to rest again in her glorious hair. His other hand supported the back of her head, while his lips and tongue went probing in Robin’s mouth. She tasted just as he expected – of wine, of feminine scent, of Robin. Then, his fingers travelled to caress her face and neck and then through her hair once again, repeating the motion over and over as Robin moaned into his mouth.

Robin felt her skin was burning. Strike’s touch was like electricity. She tried to hold back the gasps which were inevitably rising out from her throat, the feeling was so good. Warm fingers were passing through her hair and she had never experienced anything like it. Strike could feel himself becoming hard. Christ, this is quick, he thought. I’m never going to last. Fucking slow down, you idiot!

Strike deliberately slowed his kiss in an attempt to gain some control. Then, he moved his lips down over Robin’s neck and collar bone. Her perfume was intoxicating. Robin could only manage to breathe harder, trying to maintain some element of composure. But the harder she breathed, the more Strike’s masculine scent invaded her senses – beer, tobacco, some kind of male deodorant, just Cormoran. His mouth trailed across Robin’s smooth skin and his hands continued to pass through her hair and down over her back to her waist. He could clearly feel all the delicious curves hiding under Robin’s clothing.

Strike’s mouth returned to Robin’s. He was keenly aware of her breasts, rubbing between their two bodies and he started to un-do some of the buttons on her blouse, eager to explore further. What little control Robin had left almost shattered when she felt those buttons being opened. Strike managed two before temporarily abandoning his pursuit to slide his hands up and down the side of Robin’s body, either side of and under her full breasts. She felt a fleeting disappointment when the circling hands fell to her side, fondling up and down and around - everywhere but her breasts! This is unbearable, she thought. Please just touch me. NOW!

Strike was avoiding full on contact until he received some sign that it was ok to go further. He didn’t need to wait long as Robin’s mouth slid away from his to emit an anguished groan into his ear. Enthralled, Strike captured Robin’s mouth again as he placed a hand gently on her breast, grazing very lightly through her blouse and bra. Oh Jesus Lord, thought Robin. I could orgasm right now, I really could. As further groans came from deep within her, Strike felt encouraged and he moved his hand to Robin’s other breast to continue his attentions. The sound and feel of her whimpers were stoking his own, pressing arousal enormously.

Strike felt nimble hands lifting his shirt from within his waistband and then cool fingers running their course up and over his chest. Robin’s hands were taking a walk up through the mass of thick hair protecting Strike’s firm chest muscles underneath. Robin was longing to feel Strike’s body, to see the chest and the hair that she had often spied around the edges and which she fantasised about almost daily. Strike’s breathing caught noticeably as feminine fingers tickled and teased. Fuck, this feels fantastic, thought Strike. I am going to lose it big time.

After a while, Strike’s hands slipped down over Robin’s shapely posterior and he pulled her firmly towards his crotch, in a shameless show of lust. His penis reacted against Robin’s pelvis, stiffening even more and Strike was unable to stop a groan coming from deep within his throat. His manhood was iron hard, unmistakable in his eagerness to be joined to Robin. He wanted her so much.

Conscious that they were still standing, Strike started to steer them both towards his bed. Robin did not object, her feet moving as directed, backwards, away from the relative safety of the sofa. When they were both hovering over the vast double bed, kissing like teenagers, Strike pulled back, breathless.

“Robin, I have to ask…….”

“Ssshhhh. I want this,” whispered Robin, once again pressing her fingers to Strike’s lips. They looked at each other for an intense moment before Strike kissed Robin’s neck repeatedly, sliding his hands through her hair. He just couldn’t stop doing that. Robin wanted more and took hold of Strike’s shirt to push it from his shoulders, buttons quickly undone, and Strike helped to remove it altogether, discarded on the floor. And there it was in all its glory, right before Robin’s hungry eyes, a VERY hairy chest and strong shoulders and arms and she just couldn’t resist. It felt like Robin’s whole existence depended on it, as her cool hands once more meandered over Strike’s torso and neck and face, into his hair and around his back. Oh My God, she thought. This is incredible. I just want to run my hands through this all day. And every day. I wonder if he can actually feel my fingers through this hair? Can he feel if I touch his nipples? The reaction of Strike’s mouth on her own gave an affirmative answer. His heart was skipping multiple beats within him and he deepened the kiss they were still enjoying. His tongue reached further into Robin’s mouth, searching, tasting, savouring.

All at once, Robin felt Strike’s clumsy fingers at her blouse, but he found the buttons challenging. Robin paused to help, unfastening the rest of them in a few seconds, but she hesitated to remove the garment completely. Once her blouse was open, Strike’s hands appeared again and did the job for her. Robin’s soft, alabaster flesh revealed itself bit by tantalising bit as the blouse hit the floor and Strike had to breathe deeply through his excitement. Oh, how he was yearning to touch her. She was magnificent. Strike continued to kiss Robin, and she could almost share in his heavy breathing as he glanced down to admire her, standing only in her bra.

Robin was acutely aware of her near nakedness on top and her nipples clearly standing out. She started to tremble. Was it the cold or the excitement? Strike could feel Robin shaking, so he encompassed her in his warm arms, kissing her still and gently pushed back, encouraging her to lie on the bed. Strike lay down beside her and before long his hands were at her chest again, reaching around her back awkwardly to undo her bra. The elastic of the fabric immediately relaxed under his fingers and Robin manoeuvred to shed the garment completely, throwing it onto the floor. She settled back, with Strike apparently spellbound. He tried not to stare at the most flawless breasts he had possibly ever seen. Ample, but still pert, all porcelain except for pale rose coloured nipples now standing erect.

Strike let out a heavy breath and began to speak, he had to tell Robin just how beautiful she was. Again, Robin silenced him with her hand to his mouth. “Sssshhhh.” The look in his eyes told her everything and she had never felt so adored and cherished. Strike then attached his lips to Robin’s breasts, kissing one whilst fondling the other and vice versa, sucking and licking and teasing her nipples until she thought she couldn’t take it anymore. She writhed beneath him, sighing with pleasure, her fingers delving through his hair. She gasped and groaned in ecstasy. The feeling was so wonderful and she never wanted it to stop.

Strike’s hard-on was now fit to burst out of his trousers and Robin could feel his solid penis pushing against her. Her hand moved to investigate and she stroked his organ up and down almost in quiet reverence, noting Strike’s strained response. “Oh, Christ,” he groaned as he quickly moved to undo his trousers, pushing them down over his legs with Robin’s help. She then loosened the buttons on her own trousers and Strike gently pulled them down over her long legs as Robin kicked them off, nothing but a barrier. Now all that separated them were a pair of knickers and boxer shorts.

“I need to sort my leg,” said Strike, flustered, almost asking Robin’s permission.

“Sure.”

Strike turned to undo the clips keeping his leg in place while Robin covered up her chest with her hands and arms, as though shy. After a few seconds, Strike returned to kiss and caress Robin’s breasts again, his hands becoming ever more firm and Robin’s gasps and sighs becoming ever louder. She was so aroused and called out again, almost begging, “Cormoran…”

He could feel Robin moving into him, grinding so that he was gasping too. Her hips pushed against his of their own volition, there was nothing she could do to control it. The hardness of Strike’s thighs and his penis and the promise of what was to come were such a turn on. Strike shifted his hand down towards Robin’s opening and tentatively stroked over it through her knickers. He felt the wetness there, ready for him. This only served to sharpen his arousal even more and he hurriedly pushed his boxers down over his buttocks, again assisted by Robin. His fingers moved to Robin’s underwear, but he stopped and looked in her eyes with the question before going any further. Robin nodded and Strike then slid her knickers down her lithe limbs as gently as he could.

Robin pulled Strike’s head down for another searing, deep, searching kiss as their hands continued to examine and probe and rub and stroke. They were both completely naked, exposed to each other as never before. Strike’s hands travelled all over Robin’s body. She had the softest skin and he marvelled at her contours, the ins and outs of her voluptuous female body. Robin’s hands were also roaming freely, still enamoured with Strike’s chest and hair and gripping his very firm thighs and buttocks. Occasionally, their hands would drift to the other’s most sensitive parts, resulting in deep moans.

Strike’s erection was now almost painful and he was desperate to be inside of Robin, to feel her legs wrapped around him, to be surrounded by her softness, to feel her core enveloped around his own, solid and hot and bothered as it was.

“Robin, do…..”

“Sssshhhhh.”

“But Robin, do I need a condom?”

“No. No, it’s fine,” she panted.

Their legs were already tangled together and their groins pressing in unison when Strike steered his knees to encourage Robin’s legs a bit wider. He pushed lightly at first but when Robin moved with him, he parted her legs more firmly. To Robin, it felt like the most natural thing in the world and she shifted even further to wrap her legs around Strike’s midriff. He knew he would have trouble holding out on his climax, so he gently moved to stroke Robin’s clitoris, wanting to ensure that she came first. She was very moist and as soon as Strike touched her, Robin moaned deeply but then murmured:

“No need, no need.”

“No?”

Robin shook her head. “No.”

Robin imagined what was soon to come, had glimpsed and felt the magnitude of Strike’s manhood, and she was so ready, couldn’t wait to feel it, to feel the whole giant length of it and the delightful friction it would create inside of her. Strike didn’t need a second invitation. He pressed his rigid penis into Robin’s opening and very gently steered his way inside, slowly and cautiously stretching and pushing and filling out. Robin had never felt anything like it in her life. She gave an elongated moan and adjusted her position so that Strike could feel himself all the way in. Robin was sure she would orgasm this way, deep within her pelvis, which she had never done before.

Strike immediately started thrusting, using every ounce of his self-control to keep his movements slow and sure. His member was tingling and throbbing being so closely enveloped in Robin and the fit couldn’t have been more perfect. His hands slid up and down the length of Robin’s beautiful legs and buttocks encasing his lower half and he fondled and nuzzled her breasts continuously. Strike didn’t stop moving and set a regular pace, in and out, steady and strong. This is oh so good, the best sensation ever, thought Robin. Oh God, I am coming, I am so coming, I can’t stop and I don’t want to.

As Strike felt Robin getting closer, he increased his speed, pressed his body down to hers and pulled her into his arms as closely as possible. When Robin came to her climax, she let out a long sound of sheer pleasure, arching her body and seeking release through her voice, crying and moaning Strike’s name as her orgasm swept through her, ebbing and flowing. A hairy chest and arms tightened around her, holding her protectively and Strike covered her mouth with his in a kiss, feeling the vibrations from Robin’s voice running straight through him like voltage. His own breathing became frantic, and he lunged several times, hard and swift, surrendering his long held control, and coming like a train deep into Robin’s centre. His mouth left hers to utter a few long, stuttering cries into Robin’s neck, sounding her name. After a short pause for breath, he gasped, “Holy fuck!” I can’t remember the last time I came so hard, he thought. So fucking awesome.

The sensation of Strike spilling into Robin felt warm and comforting and her arms instinctively squeezed around him. As soon as he had sufficiently caught his breath, Strike’s lips returned to Robin’s in an emotional and tender kiss which continued for some minutes. Through this time, Strike didn’t move his body, still lying over Robin, still inside of her. Robin didn’t move either, it just felt so lovely to still be joined to him while they both relaxed and recovered their breathing. No words were said.

After a time, Strike rolled over and gathered Robin with him so that she was lying by his side, her head and one arm on his chest. He pulled the bedclothes over and around both of their bodies as they settled into each other. Strike’s arms encircled Robin once more as he played with her hair and kissed her forehead.

“Robin?”

“Mmmm?”

“You ok?”

“Ok? I am VERY ok. How about you?”

“I am very, very ok too,” replied Strike, as he felt Robin smile against his skin.

It wasn’t long before they were both asleep as the effects of the alcohol and their exertions overtook them.

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	15. Fuck Yeah

Chapter Fifteen

It was close to three weeks since Strike had arrived. The health visitor was really happy with his uncle Ted’s progress. He was still walking with his aids, but was able to do so a lot quicker and his pain level had gone down significantly. Strike noticed that both his uncle and aunt were noticeably happier and relaxed than when he came. Strike’s waistline had increased a bit with all the good food, but he wasn’t going to worry about that. Lucy had been in contact regularly and was planning to arrive in Cornwall for a few more days in the following week.

Strike was restless and itching to get back to work and to London. And not just itching for that, if he was brutally honest. He wanted to get back to a certain person.

Robin had been in his thoughts constantly. She was there throughout the day as Strike was out walking with his uncle or otherwise pondering the progress of cases and the agency in general. And at night time, Robin and “that night” were hovering relentlessly. There had been many mornings when Strike had woken up with his member standing at full attention. For fuck sake, I am the grossest pervert there ever was. Thinking about shagging all the time. I just can’t get these memories out of my head and sometimes I think I’ll fucking explode with sexual frustration.

What is wrong with me? I’ve slept with women before. Not an enormous amount, but certainly a fair share. I’m not usually obsessed like this to the point of absolute bloody distraction. Maybe all these long years of single life, well broadly single except when Charlotte and I weren’t fighting, maybe it makes you senile. Maybe it drives you doolally. Maybe……….oh Christ. Get a grip of yourself. You fucking know what’s wrong with you. You’ve only felt like this once before, all those years ago when you first met Charlotte. You’re in love. Hopelessly, desperately and up shit creek without a paddle, in love. With Robin. Your partner.

What am I going to do? Useless fucker.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Robin was working all the hours she could, including the weekends. She told Strike about some of her extra hours, but not all of it. He would probably throw a hissy fit if he knew the whole story. There were loads of appointments awaiting Strike when he got back and Robin had even started a waiting list when she thought it was getting out of hand.

Even though she spoke to Strike every day, she couldn’t wait to see him again. She felt like a small child waiting for Christmas. I have to talk to him. There’s nothing else for it. Nothing. If I don’t, I’ll just……. God, I don’t know, I’ll just…..burst wide open.

Strike had been in her thoughts constantly. And at night time, she was trying to erase “that night” from her memory to eliminate her guilt that she had turned into a sex-mad trollop. What on earth is this? I was with Matthew all those years and I wasn’t…. well, quite frankly…. wasn’t wetting my knickers every time I thought about him. Come to think of it, I don’t think I EVER did that. Maybe I didn’t really love Matthew. Or perhaps just in a different way.

Oh God, have a look at yourself. You bloody know what this is. I don’t think you have actually felt like this ever before. You’re in love. Undeniably, incurably and there’s no hope for you, in love. With Strike. Your partner. Sort of your boss.

What am I going to do? Stupid cow.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Sunday afternoon train from Cornwall was racing through the countryside on its way to London. It was getting noticeably busier as it got nearer to the Capital. Strike had splashed out on a first class ticket to be sure of a seat and to be able to take full advantage of the drinks and snacks being offered. And also for some peace and quiet.

He still hadn’t decided what to do about Robin. It was delicate, it was precarious, it was tricky. If he made the wrong move, well, it could be curtains for the whole thing. I wish my brain was working today, cos I need to think and I need to think fast. Let’s rewind.

So, we slept together. It was always going to happen, let’s face it. I think she quite enjoyed it. I mean, she started it and I did keep trying to ask her if she was sure. I know I liked it. What an understatement. Bloody loved it, if I’m honest. And I’d just about give anything to do it again. Jesus, have I ever wanted anything so much? It just………. just seems to be so agonisingly out of reach and for no real reason that I can see. And how would it work in the office? It CAN work. It’s been working these past months. I don’t know why we’re pussy-footing around. Unless of course, she just doesn’t want me. She tried it and thought, no, that’s not for me…….

After another twenty minutes of thought, Strike pulled out his phone and started to type.

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When Robin had woken that morning, she was nervous beyond belief. Over the course of the day, she must have been to the toilet about ten times. Strike was coming home today. God, those interminable three weeks are over and now……. what?

Robin went into the office, as she had been doing every Sunday since Strike left. She wanted to double check all of her notes and the diary for the coming weeks to make sure everything was in order for her partner. She could hardly concentrate, reading whole sentences and sections several times over without any of it registering. Just as well I’m not really doing any proper investigative work today.

She rose to make some tea and arrange herself an afternoon snack when her phone buzzed.

_Robin,_

_Are you doing anything later? Would you be free to come into the office to discuss a few things? No worries if you can’t._

_I should be back about 7-ish._

_Corm x_

Oh fook! I don’t even have until tomorrow to prepare myself. Shit and bugger! Christ, what will I do?

Robin sat down at her desk with her tea and several biscuits. Just calm the fuck down, you stupid ninny. He’s your partner, he’s your boss, he’s your friend. He’s not a monster. She typed out a text message.

_Hi Corm,_

_Yes, I’m free. I’ll see you in the office later. Hope the train journey isn’t too bad._

_Robin x_

And now what? Think, think, think.

Right, what am I so scared of? So, we slept together. I think he quite liked it. Actually, he seemed to love it. I know I liked it. A lot. God, heaps more than a lot. It was the best experience of my whole life if I’m honest. And I don’t mind admitting that I really would like to do it again. It’s just……… a bit unlikely now isn’t it? Given what’s happened the last few months? He’s probably met someone else already. And how would it work in the office? Well, the answer to that is, it won’t. Let’s face it, it’s doomed and I am now in a whole lot of trouble.

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Strike lugged his duffle bag up the stairs, his knee giving him some dull pain. Not surprising when he had been sitting for so long. He approached the office door and his heart skipped a beat or two when he saw the familiar haze of golden hair behind the glass door.

“Hi,” said Robin, rising from her chair with a beaming smile and blushing a little.

“Hi,” replied Strike, smiling broadly.

“Good journey then?”

“Yeah, pretty good. I travelled first class, so not too bad thanks.”

“Oh, good idea,” said Robin. “Do you want a drink – tea or something?” she asked as she moved into the kitchen.

“No, I’m fine thanks. Had a gallon of that on the train,” chuckled Strike.

Robin laughed too. After some seconds, their laughter died away and they just stood looking at each other intently.

“It’s great to have you back,” said Robin gently, averting her eyes from Strike’s gaze.

“Bloody good to be back.”

Strike dropped his bag near the door and removed his coat, before turning back towards his partner.

“Robin, can we talk? Please?”

“Of course. This week will be busy, but not………”

“No, not the office,” interrupted Strike.

Robin stalled, realising what that meant. “Yeah, we do need to talk,” she said, looking down.

“Robin, I’ll get right to the point....... before I…...,” Strike trailed off, pinching his eyes, sighing heavily and starting to pace.

“The fact is, I’ve been thinking about you for months and months. And ever since our night together, well, suffice to say, it’s like a stuck record in my brain. I don’t want to be going over it all the time, it’s driving me fucking crazy, but I just can’t stop. I feel like a sex-mad pervert, a walking bag of throbbing hormones. That’s how bad this is. And ever since that night... and now these last few weeks.... I miss you and it really hurts. I....... I want to be with you Robin, in every sense.”

By this time, Strike had walked back and forth across the room, pausing and fidgeting.

Robin had started to cry and tears fell from her eyes. She was wiping at her cheeks furiously.

“Robin, please don’t cry, just hear me out,” said Strike, holding up his hands. “I love you, ok? I love you like I haven’t loved a woman in a long, long time. But what I can’t work out is, do you love me too? I mean.…….. do you? I keep thinking you must, because you wouldn't have..... well, you know.... But then…… Christ, Robin, I need to know. I need to know why we can’t give this a try. I need to understand why…….,” Strike stuttered, scrabbling for words, “……..why we can’t be together.”

Robin was still quietly bubbling and now using the cuffs of her pullover to wipe at her eyes and her nose.

Every instinct within Strike was telling him to go to her, to hug her and comfort her. He took a few steps towards her.

“Robin I’m sorry. I’ve quite obviously upset you, but I can’t go on like this. It’s killing me.”

Robin reached for some kitchen roll and tried to clean up her face as she fought to control herself. She looked at Strike, standing so helpless in front of her, baring his entire soul. She suddenly smiled and started babbling through her broken tears, in a mad rush:

“Of course I love you. Of course I do. How could I not? You’re the loveliest man I’ve ever met. And you do things to me and I can’t think straight anymore and my brain is all mush and you’re in my head all the sodding time. I’ve missed you so much and I wanted to tell you every night, but I just chickened out. I’ve never felt like this about anyone and it’s bloody scary.”

Robin’s voice caught with renewed tears as she paused to draw breath. Strike took some more steps towards her, but Robin took one step back in panic.

“But there’s something else, something I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn’t. Please don’t be angry, please,” she pleaded, sniffing heavily.

“How could I be angry? I’m over the fucking moon!” exclaimed Strike.

“I’m pregnant.”

Strike was about to reach for Robin, but he stopped in mid flow, stunned. “Oh.”

“And you’ve got every right to ask me if the baby’s yours. Every right.”

Strike suddenly couldn’t get his voice to work, and his brain was desperately trying to catch up. “Erm,…… ?”

“Yes, it’s yours. Definitely. I never slept with Adam. It never quite got that far…”

“O………....K.”

“And you’ve got every right to ask me how this could have happened.”

“Erm…… so……. ?”

Robin hardly drew breath as she prattled on, “I don’t know for sure. But the doctor was switching me between different pills around that time. The one I was on wasn’t great for me. So…. I just don’t know. Maybe the new pill hadn’t kicked in yet or I missed a day by accident. I’m so, so sorry, it’s totally my fault. All mine. And I hope you know I would never do this on purpose. And I’ll understand if you want nothing to do with it. You didn’t agree to this…. not this. I mean, I know you don’t want babies and kids. I’m just…… I’ve totally messed up and I’m….. sorry. I thought you should know at least. I’m going to start showing soon and….. well of course, I’ll have to leave…..

“Robin, ROBIN, just shut up, would you? This is a lot to take in and digest, y’know? I just…… I just need a minute. Do you mind?”

“No. Of course. Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

“I’ll just go upstairs and dump my bag and then I’ll be back. Ok?”

“Yeah. It’s fine,” nodded Robin.

“Right.”

Strike picked up his bag and started his uneven walk up the stairs to his flat. When inside, he dumped his bag on his bed and immediately went to the fridge for a beer. He opened it and swigged half a bottle before sitting down.

What the fuck??? Pregnant? Jesus. Christ. Almighty.

Robin made her way to the sofa and threw herself down on it.

What a mess. What a shitty, buggered up mess.

After about five minutes, Robin could hear Strike hobbling down the stairs again. She hurriedly sat up and combed her fingers through her hair.

Strike came in the office door, closed it behind him and stood against it for a few moments. Robin sat still, nearly holding her breath.

Strike then moved across to Robin and pulled her up off the sofa, took her face in his hands, and kissed her very gently.

He pulled back slightly, fixing his eyes upon hers. “Robin, can I still sleep with you for the next..... what..... six months?”

“What?”

His lips met hers again.

“Can I still sleep with you for the next six months?”

“But…….I don’t understand……”

Strike’s mouth went searching for Robin’s a third time, more insistent, harder, his mouth opening and his tongue delving and tasting and teasing.

“In fact, can I sleep with you every night from now on?” he asked.

Robin could hardly speak through another burst of tears, so she just nodded and managed to whisper, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?…….Fuck yeah!!” replied her beaming partner.

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End file.
